221B

Chapter 12 - The Blind Banker

"This is the performance area?" I say to Sherlock. "What kind of circus is this?"

"The Yellow Dragon Circus." He answers, and smirks.

"Clearly..." I say, my eyes scanning the dimly-lit room. It's a rather large hall, with a stage on one side. The large curtains are closed, yet it seems like the stage isn't going to be used; a circle made of candles is laid out in the middle of the floor, maybe thirty feet in diameter. Everyone attending is gathering around the circle of candles. Since there are no chairs, everyone is able to stand around the circle with plenty of space to spare, either the number of tickets were limited, or the circus didn't advertize as much as they could have.

Sherlock turns as Sarah and John stop a few feet away from us, he moves behind them with his back to them as he looks all around the room and looking up to the ceiling.

"You said circus. This is not a circus." John says quietly over his shoulder to Sherlock. Sarah doesn't seem to hear him. "Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is..." He grimaces, clearly with distate. "Art." He finishes.

"This is not their day job." Sherlock replies quietly over his shoulder.

"No, sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus, they're a gang of international smugglers."

Then the performance begins, Sherlock turns to face it.

Someone taps out a rythm on a small hand drum, and an ornately-costumed Chinese woman with a heavily-painted face (traditionally known as the Opera Singer) walks into the center of the circle and looks imperiously out at the audience. She raises a hand in the air; the drumming stops.

The Opera Singer walks across the circle over to a large object covered with a cloth. She pulls the cloth back, revealing an antique-looking crossbow on a stand. She then picks up a long, thick, wooden arrow with white feathers at one end and a dangerous-looking metal point at the other end. She shows it to the audience before fitting it into place on the crossbow, she straightens up, pulls a small, white feather from her headdress, and shows it to the audience.

On the back of the crossbow is a small metal cup which she gently drops the feather into. Immediately, the arrow is released and whizzes across the room. A moment later, the arrow is embedded into a large, painted board on the other side of the circle.

Instrumental music begins, and the audience applauds as someone else enters the circle, wearing an ornate headmask and chainmail. He holds his arms out to the sides and two men walks over and begin to attach heavy chains and straps to him. They strap his now-folded arms in front of him and then back him up against the board, beginning to chain him to it.

"Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock says quietly. John, Sarah, and I turn to him.

"Hmm?" John asks.

"The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires."

"How do you know this again?" I ask quietly to Sherlock as John and Sarah turn back to face the scene before them.

He smirks. "I think you have a faily good idea."

"Well, you are Sherlock Holmes, you're as smart as it gets. I suppose that was a bit of a stupid question wasn't it?"

He smirks again. "I suppose so."

"That was a rhetorical question!"

He chuckles in response.

I turn back to face the Opera Singer and the man chained to the board. She loads another arrow into the crossbow as the men attach more padlocks and chains. One of them pulls a chain tightly, yanking the warrior's head back against the board.